


A Hunk of Burning Love

by cleo4u2



Category: Fantastic Four (Movies 2005-2007), The Martian (2015)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Don't copy to another site, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Johnny is a joker, M/M, PUNS ARE EVIL, SPAAAAAAAAACE WTF SPAAAAAAACE, Singing, Slow Burn, THAT IS NOT A PUN, The Martian cross over with Fantastic Four, Wooing, past beck x johansson, singing for wooing purposes, space walk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 05:55:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17258786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleo4u2/pseuds/cleo4u2
Summary: Dr. Chris Beck is a dedicated, intelligent, NASA astronaut. Johnny Storm is a disgraced NASA pilot, a superhero, and a practical joker. This is how they fall in love on the trip to rescue Mark Watney.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NurseDarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/gifts).



> If you’ve not read the Martian, here’s your summary to understand this fic: A man named Mark Watney is stranded on Mars. Chris Beck and crew are on their way to rescue him and Johnny Storm joins them seeing as he can breathe in space and all.
> 
> Some terms:  
>  **EMU:** Extravehicular Mobility Unit  
>  **EVA:** Extravehicular activity
> 
> A belated Merry Christmas to the wonderful [NurseDarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/profile) for being my beta and so patient because I took, like, eight months to finish this and then the ending sucked and I had to finish it again. You are a Goddess among mortals.

“Isn’t he an Avenger?”

Commander Lewis didn’t roll her eyes, but she had mastered a head tilt that was just as effective. They’d probably taught her its specific angle at the officer’s academy while Chris had been learning anatomy. They were in the common area with the entire crew, minus Mark, getting their new marching orders. No one had commented how ironic it was they were getting, or obeying, orders after a literal mutiny.

“No, Beck. He’s with the Fantastic Four.”

Chris sighed, released his pen as he rubbed his eyes. It promptly fell to the floor since they weren’t in zero gravity at the moment. Taking a minute to pout at gravity, he swiped it off the bolted down coffee table.

“How does anyone keep all these teams straight?” Chris waved his pen at the situation at large. “And why is he coming with us anyways? Doesn’t he have… world-saving to do?”

Commander Lewis crossed her arms, holding onto her elbows. Ever since they had officially mutinied, she’d been much more relaxed, evidenced by her lack of military posture. “The big-wigs wanted someone who can actually go out into space without a suit on. In case something goes wrong.”

“You seem very… put out,” Beth commented. “You’re not one of those mutant-haters are you?”

“No,” Chris pinched the bridge of his nose, “I have a problem with a man made of fire on a _spaceship_ I am _also_ on.”

“Now that he mentions it, Commander,” Martinez gestured toward Chris, “that _does_ seem like a spectacularly bad idea.”

“Well, apparently Iron Man was busy.” Commander Lewis threw her arms into the air. “Look, I’d rather have Johnny Storm on board than any other superhero I know of. He was an astronaut, he knows the drill, the risks, and was one of the Air Force's best pilots-” Her hand shot up and she looked to Martinez, “I know we don’t need a pilot.”

Shy, because she didn’t have a confident bone in her body, Beth offered, “I think it will be useful to have someone who can step into space without a suit.”

Practical as always, Dr. Vogel just asked, “When does he get here?”

Shoulders lowering, Commander Lewis said, “He’ll arrive when we pick up the supplies. Any other questions?”

Chris sighed, but kept his mouth shut. So long as Johnny Storm didn’t jeopardize their mission, it really could potentially be handy to have a guy around who could fly in space without a suit. The gloves were bulky, making it incredibly difficult to perform any delicate work, and even tethered, an EVA was dangerous. Chris wouldn’t have to worry about floating off into space if anything went wrong with a guy on board who could just go and get him. Assuming he could do that without setting Chris on fire, or exploding his oxygen tank.

“Dismissed.”

Pushing to his feet, Chris tucked his pen into his pocket and headed for the communications hub. It was his turn to talk to Mark.

\----

In his EMU, Chris closed the inner airlock behind him and faced the tiny window that looked out toward Earth. The view was spectacular; green and blue and white stretching on and on in a gorgeous orb. It would be better with the airlock open, though, so Chris clipped himself to his tether and pushed the switch for the outer airlock. With the air pumped back into the ship, it opened silently and Chris got his first view of the payload.

White and black, it trailed fire behind it. In his headset, Martinez and Commander Lewis were talking to Houston as they guided it closer and closer, and Chris let it slip into background noise. There was little for him to do unless the docking went horribly wrong. Just wait for Martinez to guide it into place, then hook up the airlock so they could unload. In the meantime, he could enjoy the view of their world, one only a few handful of people had ever seen in person.

Then a flaming ball of _actual fire_ hurtled around the payload and straight for him.

“Jesus, _fuck!_ ” Chris shouted, shoving himself backward.

“Beck?” Commander Lewis shouted in return.

A crackle over their comms and a rich, amused voice crowed, “Here’s Johnny!”

Calmly, as if no one was shouting and cursing in his ear, Martinez asked, “Has anyone told him that’s a horror flick?”

Storm, because it must have been him, just laughed as Chris righted himself after the lack of gravity twisted him about his own tether.

“You work with what you got.”

“Storm,” Chris growled, “you gave me a heart attack.”

The ball of flame swooshed into the airlock and Chris held his breath. Nothing happened. _Nothing_. Plastic didn’t melt, neither did metal, or anything else that should have happened. Chris didn’t even feel warm, though flames flickered visibly over Storm’s skin. Apparently Johnny Storm spat in the eye of physics.

“They didn’t tell you I was coming?” Johnny asked, scratching behind one flaming ear.

“They did,” Commander Lewis said.

“Just not so _violently_ ,” Chris added. It sounded as defensive as he felt, but it was completely valid. There had been a ball of _fire_ flying at his _spaceship_. Everything Chris had ever learned in school said they should all be dead right now, not chatting with an impossibility. “How are you even breathing?”

Instead of answering, Johnny laughed again. Chris scowled.

“Let’s get this thing docked and on our way,” Johnny said. “Got a man to rescue!”

\-----

With the supplies docked and secure, Chris opened the inner airlock to the ship and once again held his breath. He was starting to realize that was pointless - Johnny didn’t appear to set anything on fire he didn’t mean to - but it was instinct. Fire was the big bad of space travel, seeing as they traveled in an oxygen-rich environment.

“You seem tense,” Johnny said as Chris unscrewed his helmet. 

As dryly as he could, Chris said, “I wonder why.”

“So you think NASA sent me up here with the possibility that I’ll set the ship on fire and jeopardize this entire mission?” Johnny moved in front of him, taking the helmet and setting it on its hook. He wasn’t on fire any more, so at least that was something. “Really? I thought you guys all had twenty degrees.”

“Getting more than one Ph.D is a waste of time,” Chris grumbled, ignoring the logic in Johnny’s statement when it was delivered with so much condescension. He was trying to ignore the man entirely, really. Without the flames, he was wearing a strange, navy blue jumpsuit with the Fantastic Four’s iconic number on his left breast. With cropped, dirty blonde hair, he gave off every impression of a military man except for his bearing which was rakish and cocky. 

“Really?” Johnny’s entire body perked up like a puppy and he turned to face Chris completely, instead of looking about the ship. “Reed has, like, eight.”

Chris snorted derisively. 

“A Ph.D takes at least three years to attain and pretty much qualifies you to do research. It’s completely normal for someone with a Ph.D in physics to do research in related fields, like astronomy. Or even not really related, like ecology and hydrology. The only time it makes sense to get another Ph.D is if you’re switching vastly different fields, like English literature to archeology, or if you’re independently wealthy and enjoy research without responsibilities.”

When Chris looked up, having gotten himself out of the EVU while he spoke, Johnny was tapping away at his phone. And _mouthing_ the words Chris had just said. 

“Okay,” Johnny said slowly, “now say that all again, but slower.”

“Are you taking _notes_?”

Blinking, Johnny looked up.

“Well, _yeah_. How else am I gonna rub this in Reed’s face?” Chris stared at the superhero, unsure if he should be taking him seriously or not. From the look on his face, he meant every word. “Now you were saying, about ecology and hydrology…?”

Chris turned and headed for the main part of the ship where there was gravity and he could properly turn and walk away. As it was, Johnny just floated along behind him, muttering Chris’ impromptu speech, which was going to be delivered to one of the smartest men on the planet. He was going to be responsible for mocking one of the _greatest minds on the planet_. 

“This is gonna be _great_ ,” Johnny said with a laugh. “How do you spell archeology?”

“A-R-C-H-A-E-O-L-O-G-Y,” Johansson said without missing a beat. “You must be Johnny Storm.”

“Well, hello there.” Chris looked back, to find Johnny had lowered the phone and was smirking smarmingly at Johansson, who must have been waiting for them. “And you must be the famous Beth Johansson.” He actually took her hand and kissed it, turning the computer specialist a brilliant shade of red. “You’re far more beautiful in person.”

Beth let out this odd, high-pitched laugh, then turned quickly to Chris and mouthed, ‘Oh my god’. 

Chris rolled his eyes.

“The common room is this way, Storm,” he said crisply.

“But it’s much prettier here than there, I am sure,” Johnny murmured, still smouldering at Beth.

“Johansson will be joining us,” Chris said through gritted teeth. “The rest of the crew is also waiting to meet you.”

“Should have led with that!” Johnny was suddenly moving again, making little shooing gestures with his hands.

Chris looked Johansson in the eye, with Johnny watching, and rolled his eyes again. She giggled, he grinned, and they set off through the tubes connecting the outer wheel of the ship to the inner one, where there was actual gravity. It was a marvel of engineering, really, and Chris was normally in awe of humankind’s feats over the nature of space as he traveled from one end to the other and had to compensate for the change from zero G’s to nearly Earth-like forces.

This time, he concentrated on making the switch as quickly as possible without warning Johnny.

“Whoa!” Their ‘guest’ shouted as he abruptly fell the last few feet from the tube into the common room. Except, inches from the floor, he burst into flames and floated back to his feet.

 _Show off,_ Chris thought, but knew better than to say it outloud with Commander Lewis now present. 

“ _Cool_ ,” Johnny said, the flames dying away again before he faced the huge, floor to ceiling windows that graced this part of the ship. It fascinated _and_ irritated Chris that the cloth of Johnny’s jumpsuit wasn’t even charred. He’d heard about the material Reed Richards had invented, but seeing it up close and personal was an entirely different experience.

“Right?” Martinez chuckled, gesturing out at the infinite space. “Best view in the house.”

“Good to see you again, Johnny,” Lewis said, stepping forward and shaking Johnny’s hand. To Chris’ complete surprise, the man didn’t flirt or leer. He shook her hand, then kicked off a quick salute. Like he _respected_ Commander Lewis. Even his smile was different, wide but honest; something Chris didn't expect to see.

“Good to see you again, Mel - I mean,” he grinned teasingly, “Commander.”

“You’d be seeing a lot more of me if you hadn’t pulled that last stunt,” she said, full on scolding mother with her tone.

“Hey, who can say no to two Victoria’s Secret models?” Johnny gestured to himself. “I know I can’t, and besides,” his hands swept together toward Martinez, “you’d miss this handsome mug much more than you do mine.”

Commander Lewis smiled, a rare sight in itself, and nodded as if Johnny had scored some point in a game Chris didn’t understand. Martinez was crowing, clapping Johnny on the shoulder.

“Can’t say I’m mad. One less fly-boy to compete with.”

Johnny smirked at Commander Lewis, ‘See?’ and Chris really hated his smug face. 

“Anyway,” Commander Lewis said loudly, getting down to business, “everyone, this is Johnny Storm. Former Air Force, former NASA pilot, now with the Fantastic Four.” Storm _actually_ bowed, even adding a flourish at the end. “Johnny, you’ve met Chris Beck, our flight surgeon, former Air Force Reserve.”

“Chris -”

“Doctor Beck, thank you.”

Johnny just smiled at him with half his mouth. Why was his mouth so expressive? It was creepy.

“Doctor Beck was kind enough to get the door for me.”

Commander Lewis nodded.

“And I see you’ve met Beth Johannsen, our systems operator and reactor technician. She helped design the software we’re flying on.”

“Smart _and_ beautiful.”

Johnny _winked_. Chris was going to be sick.

“You know Martinez and myself, so last, but not least,” Commander Lewis gestured towards Vogel, “Alex Vogel, our navigator.”

Johnny smiled almost politely and held out his hand to their German crew member. 

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

If Chris had been sitting, he would have been in danger of falling out of his chair. Who knew the guy could be _polite_? Why the hell hadn’t he tried with Chris, or Beth? Well, he clearly wanted to get into Beth’s pants.

“Mr. Storm,” Vogel said simply. There was enough warmth in his voice for Chris to know that Vogel actually liked Johnny.

“Alright,” Commander Lewis said, “no need for further debriefing. We all know why we’re here: Mark. We have a long trip to Mars, and god only knows what will go wrong between then and now. Dismissed.” She then turned to Johnny and gestured toward one of the tunnels. “I’ll show you to your quarters.”

“Oh,” Johnny said quickly, “I was going to ask Beth -”

“I know,” Commander Lewis said dryly, “so let _me_ show you to your quarters.”

Johnny laughed and gestured the commander forward.

“After you, ma’am.”

How Lewis didn’t despise Johnny for being a hound, Chris had no idea. He watched them head off, and ground his teeth until Beth sat down at his side.

“You really don’t like that guy,” she said neutrally.

“You really _do_ like that guy,” he replied.

“It’s Johnny Storm,” Beth said with a laugh, “He’s one of the hottest guys on the planet, no pun intended. Wait,” she frowned at him, “you’re not jealous are you? Because we agreed -”

“No,” Chris said quickly, “No, I know what we agreed and I still think we’re right; we work best as friends. I just… I can’t stand a guy _that_ full of himself.”

“To be fair,” Martinez interjected, “he’s got good reason. He’s the best pilot I’ve ever known.”

“Yeah, but,” Chris started.

“And he picks up extreme sports like you pick up engineering disciplines.” Martinez was oddly serious, so Chris didn’t try to interrupt again. “And I have to point out he’s saved the world more than a time or two. Is he a little rough around the edges? Sure. We’re military; who isn’t?”

Silently, Beth opened her palm and swung it toward Chris, as if offering him up on a plate.

“Okay,” Martinez conceded, “but it’s the exception that makes the rule.”

\----

The way Johnny was all excited about finally going outside sat wrong with Chris. Going into the emptiness of space should be a serious matter requiring preparation and respect, not a jubilant roll in the hay. He hadn’t stopped talking about being ‘let out’ like they were in prison, not in a spaceship hurtling at astronomical speeds towards a specific destination. A destination that meant death for Mark if they didn’t make it.

It was inevitable that something would go wrong during their return journey from Earth to Mars. Chris had been expecting it to take longer than three days after resupply, though. The only silver lining was that the damage was minor; an exterior plate had come loose, likely from debris striking the hull when they had used Earth’s orbit as a slingshot. That didn’t make the damage any less serious. The Ares 3 was a finely honed machine; any piece out of place could spell catastrophe. This particular plate covered electrical systems they really didn’t need to have torn apart by a fraction of a meteorite.

“I don’t need his help,” Chris said to Commander Lewis for about the twentieth time. “It’s just a plate reattachment. At worse, it will need new screws.”

“At worst,” Commander Lewis argued, arms crossed over her chest, “your tether will snap and you’ll be blown out into space where we can’t retrieve you.” Chris scowled. “I know you don’t like the guy -”

“He put shaving cream in my shampoo.”

“- but he’s our best safety net. Honestly, I wish he had him on every mission.”

“He switched the carrots and meat tubes.”

“Chris -”

“He rigged the gym so Great Balls of Fire plays every time he enters.” Commander Lewis’ lips twitched and Chris growled. “He’s a cocky show-off and he’s more likely to get me killed than give an assist.”

“He’s never gotten anybody killed,” Lewis said mildly. “In fact, quite the opposite. So stop arguing, Chris. He’s going out with you.”

“Fine,” Chris pushed himself to his feet, “but if I die, you remember this conversation.”

Commander Lewis just shook her head.

“And if you don’t, you can, too.”

“What’re we talkin’ about?” Johnny asked, dropping gracefully into the room. 

“You,” Chris snapped.

“Only terrible things, I hope.” Johnny smiled, so Chris glared. “Definitely terrible things. You ready for the EVA, Doc?”

“I was born ready,” Chris snapped.

Johnny looked to Commander Lewis in surprise.

“I think that’s my line.”

“I think it is,” she agreed.

Chris threw up his hands and headed for the tube that would take him to the upper levels, then to the airlock he would use to access the damaged panel. Though Johnny followed, Chris ignored him. The supposed hero had gotten on his last nerve. Even the fact that Johnny only needed to set himself on fire, while Chris needed to actually spend half an hour getting into his suit and checking the seals, served to irritate him further. It would have gone faster if Johnny had helped, but Chris had just glared at the man when he tried. He wasn’t putting his life in this asshole’s hands, not for a second.

When he was finally ready, Chris climbed into the airlock and grudgingly let Johnny follow. He’d at least taken the hint, humming to himself instead of attempting to make conversation. 

With the airlock sealed to protect the rest of the crew, Chris reported, “Airlock sealed. Ready for EVA.”

“Roger,” Martinez answered from where he would be monitoring Chris’ progress in the cockpit. “Locking… and unlocking the outer airlock…” A click and thump. “And you’re five by.”

“I never understood that saying,” Johnny muttered. “Five by five. Why not four by four?”

“Roger,” Chris said, ignoring Johnny entirely. “Opening outer airlock.”

Johnny had agreed that touching things should be left up to Chris when possible. He claimed to be perfectly capable of controlling his heat, enough that he wouldn’t damage anything he touched, but said it wasn’t worth the risk. At first, Chris had believed him. Now he thought Johnny was a lazy-ass, but opened the airlock himself as part of him was still waiting on Johnny’s flames to kill them all.

The second the door was wide open, Johnny let out a shout of, “Woo hoo!” and zoomed past into space. Well, he had at least waited for Chris to tether and swing out of the doorway, but not much longer. Chris was startled, nearly letting go of the bar beside the airlock, but still turned to watch him go. And if part of Chris thought the radiating ball of fire, making joyous loop-the-loops in the darkness of space was a beautiful sight... Well, nobody but him would know.

“Stick close, fly boy,” Commander Lewis said over the radio. “Don’t need you getting lost.”

“This summer,” Martinez said, “the story of one man, lost in space. And then another man, who gets lost trying to rescue the first man.”

Johnny laughed, as did Commander Lewis. Even Chris found it amusing, but he held in the laugh. No need for Johnny to think his antics could cause any kind of amusement. His head was big enough.

“No worries, Commander,” Johnny said, the loops coming closer so they lit up Chris’ part of the ship. “How’s it going, Doc?” 

“I’ve taken exactly three steps,” Chris said tersely. 

“Okay,” Johnny said, his tone serious, “let us know when it’s five.”

Chris rolled his eyes as Martinez laughed, but said, “Five,” as he took that step. 

Johnny whooped and performed a fancy maneuver above Chris’ head, all curves and sharp falls, leaving a streak of red fire behind him like a painter on a canvass. Chris wondered if the effect was an accident, or if he’d planned it that way. Either way, he shook his head and focused on continuing to his goal. It wasn’t exactly easy, traveling along a spaceship. There was no wind to worry about, but every few steps he still had to reset his tether. Step, step, unclip, reclip. The moments between always had Chris’ heart pausing, wondering if he’d slip, or get hit with something and knocked off, cast into space with only Johnny Storm to save him.

Part of him would rather die.

The absolute worst part of an EVA was the way the Sun came and went, casting him into brilliant, blinding light and then into absolute darkness. It wasn’t a problem for the parts of the ship that didn’t move, but once he’d made the heart-stopping leap onto the spinning section of the ship, the light cycled every thirty seconds. Light, dark, light, dark, and the knowledge that you were spinning, helplessly, in a vacuum surrounded you. 

Of course, this wasn’t Chris’ first rodeo. As Johnny chatted with Martinez, Chris focused on his work. That was all you could do, really. Anything else and the vertigo would take you, leave your hands and legs weak, take your sense of up and down, right and left. Holding on to the ship at that point would be impossible, if you even managed to stay conscious.

After ten minutes, during which he’d located the panel and determined it would have to be replaced entirely - something had hit it hard - it took him a moment to realise that the night cycle was gone. The light hadn’t gone away. 

Chris paused, and then slowly looked over his shoulder. There Johnny was, bright and shining, like a miniature sun with flames surrounding his body. He was keeping pace with the spinning ship, ensuring Chris saw daylight no matter which way it pointed.

“You back with us now, Doc?” Johnny asked.

“With you?” Chris repeated, frowning up at the superhero.

“You weren’t responding,” Martinez said. 

“I was -”

“You were telling us your progress, sure,” Martinez interrupted him, “but you weren’t responding when Johnny asked you questions.”

“Well,” Chris huffed, turning back to his work despite how… odd… he felt knowing Johnny was paying him that much attention, “it’s _Storm_.”

“But you always answer my science questions, Doc,” Johnny said. “You didn’t this time.”

Chris hesitated as he tucked each screw he removed from the panel into its place, so it wouldn’t fly off and damage anything else. 

“And what did you ask?”

“What hit the ship?”

“That’s not a science question.”

“Okay,” Johnny conceded, “but it’s a _knowledge_ question. You like those. Like you wanna teach me things.”

Chris frowned, but had to concede Johnny was right. It displeased him that Johnny Storm hung around with people like Reed Richards and Tony Stark and didn’t know basic facts. He’d been an astronaut for Christ’s sake, and he didn’t know what could have hit the ship?

“It could have been any number of things,” Chris said, not voicing any of his thoughts, “likely when we went through Earth’s atmosphere. This damage,” Chris eyed the plate and the baseball sized dent, “probably something the size of these screws I’m removing.”

“But,” Johnny said, “that’s tiny. That’s not a _tiny_ dent.”

“Lucky us that we didn’t hit something bigger.” Chris grunted, placing the last of the screws away, and reported in. “Screws removed. Replacing panel.” 

“You say that like we might have hit something bigger.”

“Okay, explain something to me,” Chris said as he slipped the existing panel into a waiting bag on his belt and pulled on the new, undamaged one, “how do you fly through Earth’s atmosphere and not notice the tons and _tons_ and _tons_ of space debris, just hanging out?”

“Well, generally if it gets too close to me, it evaporates.”

“So you just ignore anything that could possibly slam into you?”

“No,” Johnny said slowly, “that would be dumb.”

“My point,” Chris muttered. Martinez snorted.

“Well, I can’t exactly see a _screw_ at the speeds I’m going.”

“Neither can we,” Chris said. “Or something bigger, like a nut -”

Johnny giggled, “You said nut.”

“- or some broken shielding,” Chris said louder, refusing to stoop to Johnny’s level, “or even trash other ships have thrown out. So we cross our fingers and pray. Even flecks of paint could cause serious damage.”

“Paint,” Johnny said flatly. 

“Paint,” Chris repeated. 

“You should see what it did to the International Space Station,” Martinez threw in. “That’s a pretty terrifying picture, when you think how close they came to dying, because of _paint_.”

“Christ,” Johnny muttered.

“All set,” Chris reported. “Heading back inside.”

“Roger,” Commander Lewis said, her first words in long enough Chris had forgotten she was in the cockpit with Martinez.

Chris counted his tools, similar to a nurse before and after surgery. Some things were universal; you didn’t want to leave anything behind to do damage. After the last check that nothing could slip loose from its moorings, Chris turned back the way he had come. As always, his heart skipped when he had to detach the tether. There was no gravity, and he couldn’t feel the their velocity without wind, but he _knew_ both were true and every step felt a tad unsafe.

Step, step, unclip, clip. 

Step, step, unclip, clip. 

Chris retraced his path to where he had to leap from the outer, spinning edge of Ares 3 to the stationary center. The moment he unhooked the tether was enough to sour his mouth. He waited to gauge his timing. This wasn’t his first attempt; he was careful, experienced, and he accounted for every possibility.

He did not account for something striking his leg just before his boot touched the ship. The sudden, sharp pain in his shin was bright and distracting enough Chris didn’t realise he hadn’t touched down at all. He was spinning, floating away from the ship. Whatever had struck him, had been fast enough he was moving quickly, too. His heart sped up, his ears buzzing, as he swallowed down his panic. He needed to perform a check. What was working? What was broken?

Then the alarms went off in his suit.

“Warning, low oxygen.”

“Warning, suit integrity compromised.”

**“Warning. Warning. Warning.”**

Someone shouted his name, but he couldn’t hear it with how fast his heart was pumping blood through his veins, making his ears buzz. Whatever had hit him had punctured his suit. He was floating, free-falling, _away_ from the ship. He was tethered to _nothing_ , and he was losing oxygen and pressure. In a vacuum. He was going to die.

The next sensation was so strange, so out of the realm of possibility, his brain fought recognition. 

A hand, large and hot - even though the suit - splayed on his back, pushing him. Pushing him back towards Ares 3. The light blinding him wasn’t the Sun, he realized, it was _flame_. Flames that surrounded him, carrying him back to safety.

“Johnny,” he gasped.

“Save your breath, Doc,” Johnny said. “Got a bad tear there.”

Chris did as he was told, able to feel how dizzy he was from a lack of oxygen. His suit would be trying to pour as much air to him as it could, but if the hole was big enough that wouldn’t matter. It felt big enough, too. His shin hurt from more than just a whack; it was frigid, cold, like frostbite. At least, it wasn’t spreading, which Chris guessed was thanks to Johnny’s flames. It made sense, he thought muzzily, the man had to carry atmosphere with him somehow. How else did his body survive out here?

A blink and Chris found himself in the airlock, completely leaning against Johnny as he sealed the big door on his own. The gasping, sucking sound was louder now. His breathing, he realized distantly. He was trying to breathe and there was nothing to take into his lungs.

“Hang in there, Doc,” Johnny was saying, but Chris couldn’t answer. He just gasped, horrid sucking sounds, as the click, thunk heralded the outer airlock locked and the inner airlock unlocking. “Almost there.”

Chris just stared up at him. No jokes, no teasing, just a serious expression on that chiseled face. Even his eyes were serious, no longer twinkling and mirthful. Objectively, Chris had to admit he had a very handsome face when he wasn’t smug or sassy. A face Chris liked, if he was being honest, and it seemed a terrible idea to lie to yourself while you were dying. If only Johnny wasn’t such a jackass, he’d consider finding out what other attractive expressions that face could wear.

Except, Chris argued with himself, Johnny wasn’t as much of an ass as he’d expected. He’d looked to be fucking around, but he’d been paying a hell of a lot of attention to Chris’ state of mind. How else had he noticed the quick, flick-flick of day to night had started to get to him? How else had he been _right there_ when Chris needed him? Sure, Johnny Storm was a jack-off, but he wasn’t reckless. 

And maybe he wasn’t stupid.

The airlock seal hissed, and Johnny was yanking off his helmet. The second it popped free, Chris gulped in great, heaving breaths. He hadn’t been in danger of death, but he’d been close to passing out. The black edges around his vision faded as his body finally got enough oxygen to keep it conscious.

“I’m okay,” he reported over the coms, his voice breathless and weak. “Johnny got me.”

Johnny smirked at him.

“So it’s Johnny now, huh? Not Storm?”

“Shut up,” Chris gasped, “and help me out of this suit.”

Snickering, Johnny just smiled.

“What happened?” Lewis demanded, now that she knew he was safe.

“Something hit me,” Chris said. “Tore through my suit. Not sure of the damage just yet. I’ll keep you updated.”

“I want a full report,” Lewis said, “as soon as possible.”

“I’ll see to it he’s fine, Commander,” Johnny said.

“You already did.”

Even Chris could admit Commander Lewis was right, he just wasn't sure how this changed things.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything changed. After Johnny helped him out of his EVA suit, then helped him back to his room, Chris couldn’t stop staring. Johnny chattered away, non-stop, full force. Johnny helped him wrap his ankle, he helped him get strapped into bed. He didn’t _change_ , but he wasn’t the man Chris wanted to punch in the teeth. He was, Chris realized, trying to make Chris _laugh_. Not that Chris did, or even speak, really. That didn’t deter Johnny. If anything, it made him try harder and that…

Chris didn’t know what to do with that. He didn’t know what to do with the fact that he should be dead, either. By all rights, that hit should have killed him; knocked him into space where he’d die of exposure to a vacuum. But he wasn’t dead. A man on fire had saved him, brought him back to the ship, and was trying to make him feel better.

In the middle of Johnny’s sentence, Chris said, “Thank you.” He hadn’t really heard what was being said, but Johnny froze, staring at him with his hands on Chris’ bed straps.

“Of course,” Johnny finally said, his hand drifting to Chris’ wrist. He held on loosely and Chris was struck by how _warm_ he was. “I’ve got your back, Dr. Beck.”

“Chris,” Chris blurted. “My colleagues call me Dr. Beck. My friends…”

A slow smile engulfed Johnny’s face. It was triumphant, and Chris thought he was already regretting this decision.

“Okay, Chris.”

It wasn’t the teasing he expected and that, somehow, made it worse. Scowling, Chris waved Johnny away. Though he laughed, Johnny held up his hands in surrender and backed out of Chris’ rooms. 

“Sleep well, Chris,” he said, punching the button to close the door.

Chris watched until he couldn’t see Johnny anymore, then closed his eyes. It was harder to forget the warmth from where Johnny had touched him. Just a ring of fingers on his wrist, and yet it tingled like he stood in front of the Sun.

\----

The next morning, Chris tried to put his finger on the difference between them. Johnny wasn’t the same, that was for sure. He walked into the common room as Rocket Man blasted from the speakers. Without a word, he walked out again as Beth and Johnny howled with laughter. 

That was normal, that was fine. What wasn’t fine was was that he wasn’t really upset by the song, or Johnny’s teasing. He had walked out because he knew Johnny would laugh harder if he joined in. After, he _lingered_ , just outside in the tube, listening to the sound. 

Whatever had changed, Chris wasn’t sure he liked it. This wasn’t him, this wasn’t… _normal_. Whatever it was, he had to figure it out, and quick, before things got even weirder.

\----

A week later, Chris was still stumped, but things had continued to spiral out of control. Sort of. There was a high likelihood that he was overreacting. Chris didn’t handle change well. He was a planner. He liked everything to go as planned, to revolve in expected scenarios, which had been the biggest reason to not go to Mars. He had, though, because he wouldn’t be tied down by fear. Now, Chris had to admit that Mars had just been more planning. Every contingency, everything that could go wrong, had a plan.

There was no plan for Johnny Storm. There was definitely no plan for a Johnny Storm who kept _touching_ him. 

It wasn’t anything overt, or sexual. It was innocent, friendly, platonic. A touch to his shoulder to get his attention. Sitting too close on the couch. Once splaying himself across both Chris and Martinez’s laps after losing a game of chess to Commander Lewis. Moping, Martinez had said, which explained why Johnny was in _Martinez’s_ lap; they got on like a house on fire. It did _not_ explain why Johnny was in _Chris’_ lap. 

It _certainly_ did not explain why Chris had tolerated it, or how he’d wanted to run his fingers across Johnny’s close-cropped scalp.

Chris had to admit, it was more than just physical contact, though. Johnny was spending more time hovering in Chris’ lab/medical bay. The constant, never-ending stream of unimportant noise that left Johnny’s mouth should have been an irritant. It _had been_ an irritant. Now, it was like a white noise machine: Chris wasn’t sure he could work without it.

Finally, Chris couldn’t take it anymore. 

“I don’t get you, Johnny,” he interrupted a trivial story about Susan Storm’s wedding. Was the story about the attack Chris had read about, or the monster that tried to eat the planet? No. It was about how he’d lost her veil and had to find it last minute. “You're smart enough to hack Beth’s code, but you get kicked out of NASA - _NASA_ \- by crashing a flight sim by having sex in it. I don't even understand the physics of that, but it's _ridiculous_.”

“That’s it?”

Chris blinked, surprised by the complete lack of reaction. He’d expected bluster, or excuses, something flippant, not… Well, this seemed like a lot of nothing.

When Chris didn't respond fast enough, Johnny said, “Because if that’s it, if that’s the reason you don’t like me…”

Johnny stepped closer and Chris swallowed. There was no point in denying how physically attractive Johnny was; it was just the rest of him that set off Chris’ alarm bells. Johnny wasn't the kind of guy that settled down, and Chris wasn't the kind of guy who didn't. This could only end one way: with Chris’ heart broken.

“It's not,” Chris had finally found his voice, so he straightened his spine, “I-I mean, I like you fine.”

Chris sucked in a breath as Johnny moved right into Chris’ space, their bodies so close he could feel the unnatural, comforting heat emanating from Johnny’s body. And, jeeze, when had Johnny’s eyes gotten so blue?

“You don’t like me the way I like you.”

Blinking in surprise, Chris opened his mouth, and closed it again. It struck him all at once. Why was Chris listening to Johnny’s laugh? Why was Chris becoming addicted to the stream of consciousness leaving his mouth at all times? Why did he tolerate and even welcome Johnny’s touch? The hypothesis sprung to life and _all_ the data fit: Chris had _feelings_ for Johnny Storm.

“What?” 

The word escaped him and Chris didn’t recognize his own voice at first. Then Johnny’s normally confident, even arrogant smile, vanished behind something fake, something false, and he took a step back. A step out of Chris’ space, which… No, Chris wasn’t going to try to understand Johnny. He had enough to deal with in his own head. Like the fact that he hadn’t met a man he was attracted to in years. Chris wasn’t bisexual, he wasn’t homosexual, he was demisexual. The gender of a person didn’t matter, it was how Chris felt about them, and Chris felt a lot for Johnny.

“It’s okay,” Johnny said softly, “but we’re gonna be alone together a lot, so… I hope you can tolerate me for the duration.”

“What?” Chris said again, then shook himself because he was smarter than this, damn it! “Wait, no, I…” He what? Chris faltered, because he wasn’t wrong. Johnny was still the world’s most eligible bachelor, in love with the single life. Chris wanted a _partner_. “You’re gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, I just… I don’t think we… fit.”

Relief filled Chris’ chest as confidence entered Johnny’s shoulders and they squared.

“Gorgeous, huh?”

“Shut up,” Chris huffed, rolling his eyes.

Johnny smirked.

“Spell this out for me, Doc.” Johnny stepped back into Chris’ space, making it hard for him not to just reach out and touch those incredible biceps. “Why don’t we fit?”

Chris didn’t want to lie to Johnny, or sugarcoat his feelings. Apparently, another change was how much he trusted Johnny, though that wasn’t really a surprise. The man had saved his life.

“All you’ll want is a fling. You only want me because there's no one else to chase out here.”

Chris smiled, but it wasn't smug or self-satisfied.

“You know, a few years ago you’d have been right.”

“But then you met me,” Chris said sarcastically. 

Johnny laughed.

“No, not you, but there was a woman - look it's not important. What is important is that I'm not looking for a quickie, or a fling. I'm looking for the whole forever deal.” Johnny picked up one of Chris’ instruments on his desk, turned it over and set it back down, like he couldn't just stand still. “Is that you?” He shrugged. “What I know is I like you. You're funny, but not in your face about it. You have a big heart, but you're still very focused, and you’re _smart_. Not just book smart, but responsible, common sense smart. I like that. I need that in my life. I'd like _you_ in my life.”

Flushed and flustered, Chris didn't really know what to say. Johnny was being open and honest with him and… he liked it. He liked this side of Johnny Storm, but it was almost as confusing to see it existed at all when he thought of how Johnny usually acted.

After clearing his throat so his voice didn't crack, Chris said, “This is what I was talking about. You're,” Chris waved at Johnny, trying to encompass all of him, “like this - and it's incredible - and then you revert to a dumb, spoiled frat boy.”

Johnny laughed and rolled his eyes with his whole body.

“God, you are _just_ like my sister.” Johnny sauntered, slowly, around Chris’ lab and Chris instantly missed the heat of him. He also hated how Johnny was randomly handling Chris’ things, but didn't actually seem curious about what he was touching. “Life isn't _just_ about being responsible, Chris. I used to think it was about having fun, but… no. It's about both. You gotta plan for the future and that’s boring, but I can have nice things like you, too.” Johnny wiggled his eyebrows and this time it was Chris who rolled his eyes. “But focusing only on that? Chris, come on. _Live_ a little. Take a risk.” Johnny gestured to himself. “Take a big risk. Don't let good things pass you by because you're scared it could go wrong.”

“I'm in _space_ ,” Chris said in outrage, “ _Anything_ could go wrong.”

“Hey, what do I know?” Johnny spread his hands and shrugged. “You're the genius, but I’m here, you’re here, and we’re not going anywhere.” Johnny paused, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Or we’re both going to the same place while not going anywhere? How does that work when you're on a spaceship hurtling through space?”

Chris snorted, because Johnny’s inability to hold a train of thought had, at some point, become _cute_.

“We’re both going to the same place,” he offered, because Johnny would get stuck if he wasn’t bailed out.

“Yes.” Snapping his fingers, Johnny’s focus returned to Chris. “So think about it. Think about me,” he winked, “ _carnally_.”

“Out,” Chris ordered, pointing at the door. “I draw the line at sex jokes.”

“Who’s joking?” Johnny began, but darted away when Chris took a threatening step forward. “Okay, okay, I’m going.” He was laughing as he went, though. As Chris snapped the door shut behind him, he couldn’t help notice that he was smiling as well. His heart was light; lighter than it had been since he’d thought Mark had died.

That had to mean something… 

Didn’t it?

\----

Chris really should have known that Johnny wasn’t going to just leave it there. Sure, it had sounded like he would give Chris time to come to a decision, but he _hadn’t_ said he wouldn’t influence that decision. Which was how he found himself being serenaded in the common room.

It was _humiliating_.

It was… really nice.

By now everyone on the crew was used to hearing music when they walked into the common area, taking the time to identify the song - and thus, Johnny’s joke - before moving on with their day. When the opening bars started with the lyrics, it was effortless to identify the song; One Call Away. Chris didn’t start moving, though, because he didn’t get the joke. Johnny was definitely the type of guy to compare himself to Superman _and_ think he came out on top, but…

Chris didn’t have time to finish the thought as Johnny joined in, singing, “Call me, baby, if you need a friend,” and Chris flushed to his toes. Johnny was trying to woo him with _song_ in front of _everyone_. A quick glance around found ‘everyone’ was just Martinez and Commander Lewis, but that didn’t make it any better. Especially not when Johnny sang, “Reaching out to you, so take a chance,” and took Chris’ hand. The military duo wolf-whistled loudly, applauding as well.

Quickly extricating his hand, Chris headed back to the tube, intending to flee, but Johnny and the music just followed him. Down the tube, back toward the personnel quarters, with Johnny’s slightly off-key voice chasing him. Chris bit his lip as he literally ran away, embarrassed by himself as well as the serenading now. He was trying not to think too hard about the song, specifically it’s lyrics suggesting he take a chance on Johnny, that Johnny would be there for him, love him. All he had to do was ask.

It was what he wanted, but he wasn’t sure he still believed it. 

No, that wasn’t true. He was afraid it was. He was afraid of Johnny Storm coming into his neat, predictable life, and turning everything on its head. That’s why he liked Beth; she was predictable. Johnny...

When the song reached the chorus, Chris thought Johnny would leave it there, just singing at his back. Chris’ was bunk in sight but Johnny’s hand caught his elbow, turning him around so he found the taller, well-built man nearly on top of him. His breath caught in his throat. Johnny was _right there_ , a gentle hand on his elbow, another curling around his shoulder, as he sang the final chorus.

“I’m only one call away.” Chris sucked in a breath, forcing his lungs to work. “I’ll be there to save the day.” He couldn’t look away from Johnny’s eyes, though. His blue, blue eyes that seemed to pierce straight through Chris. “Superman got nothing on me. I’m only one call away.”

 _Oh, shit_ , Chris’ mind supplied, _He’s leaning in! Abort! Abort!_

But he didn’t abort. Johnny whispered, “I’m only one call away,” against Chris’ lips. The music stopped and Johnny kissed him. 

With a strangled sound that didn’t at all match the gentleness of the gesture, Chris’ eyes fell closed. The hand on his elbow slipped around his waist and Chris’ lips moved softly over his own, leaving tender, sweet kisses that were so at odds with the literal fire of the man holding him. When Johnny’s tongue flicked against his lower lip, Chris whimpered and found his hands were clutching Johnny’s broad shoulders.

Then Johnny was pulling back and Chris blinked his eyes open, confused why it was over. Johnny was just smiling at him, his fingers having found the hair at the nape of Chris’ neck and brushed through them ever so softly. It made Chris shiver.

“Still thinking about me?” Johnny asked, his voice subdued after all that sound.

Chris could only nod, which had Johnny grinning like the cat that had caught the canary. Which, Chris supposed, he had. It would take very little convincing to get him into bed right now. They were practically at his quarters… Just a word, a push even, and he’d eagerly take Johnny to bed.

Except… Johnny kissed him again, a fleeting brush of lips, and pulled away. Johnny had him right where he wanted him, and wasn’t pushing for more.

“See you later, Chris.”

Chris took a step forward, after Johnny’s retreating back, and froze with the word, “Wait,” on his lips. Wait? He was going to ask Johnny to _wait_? For what purpose? 

To take him to bed instead.

Stepping sideways, Chris let the wall take his weight, and closed his eyes. He was completely screwed.

\----

The next morning, Chris’ alarm went off, and his speakers started playing _I’m Yours_ , by Jason Mraz. When he went into the common area, _Hungry like a Wolf_ by Duran Duran played and everyone laughed because he was definitely the woman in the song. He endured it, this time, because Johnny wasn’t there actually singing to him. In fact, Johnny seemed to be making himself scarce, which was pretty damn hard on a spaceship. 

When he left - after one too many refrains from Vogel and Martinez - Chris still wasn’t able to find him. Not in his quarters, not in Chris’, or Chris’ lab. Which was frustrating, because Chris had wanted to get some work done and he struggled to focus now without Johnny’s chatter as background noise. 

He was starting to worry Johnny had left the ship entirely when the devil himself finally knocked at his lab. Chris was not proud to say he snapped, “Where the hell have you been?” the second he opened the door. 

Johnny’s eyebrows shot into his hairline, but he slowly smiled.

“Miss me, Doc?”

Blushing, Chris turned on his heel and stomped back into his lab.

“No,” he lied. “I just haven’t been able to yell at you for all the… _songs_.”

“Uh huh,” Johnny said, clearly not believing him for a moment. He’d followed Chris inside, though, closing the door, but Chris was not prepared to have him there, at his side, taking his hand. He should be by now. Johnny was _constantly_ in his space, touching him, making his heart race.

“One more song, okay?” Johnny’s voice was oddly serious and soft. “Then if you still say no, I’ll leave you alone.”

“You will?” Chris asked. He was skeptical, but he didn’t pull his hand away as Johnny placed his palm on his chest, just above Johnny’s heart. 

“I will, but…”

“Ah, there it is,” Chris said, rolling his eyes.

“But,” Johnny repeated, “I want you to dance with me.”

“Dance with you?” Chris squeaked, the high pitched sound making him quickly clear his throat as Johnny smiled indulgently.

“Yes, dance with me.”

“And then you’ll leave me alone?”

“If that’s what you _really_ want.”

Chris narrowed his eyes, but finally nodded. He was a bit surprised Johnny even wanted his permission, but it was only with Chris’ acquiescence that turned a little away slightly, tapping a single key on Chris’ computer, and soft music flitted through the speakers.

“Of course,” Chris said dryly, recognizing the opening bars of _Eternal Flame_.

Johnny just laughed, taking Chris’ hands again. Swallowing hard, he didn’t resist Johnny’s placement on his hips, nor when Johnny slipped an arm around his back. The large, warm palm settled between his shoulder blades, and he had to swallow again. His other hand cupped the back of his neck, a comfortable weight that settled the nerves swirling in Chris’ stomach. 

This time, Johnny didn’t sing. He held Chris’ gaze and waltzed them slowly about the room, the music filling every breath and heart breath, so Chris’ normally sharp mind couldn’t think of anything but Johnny’s hands, his blue gaze, and the music filtering through the tiny speakers. 

And just like that, it was over. The music faded out, but they didn’t stop dancing until the very last sounds slipped into silence. Johnny was staring at him, his blue eyes expectant, and Chris realized he was supposed to say something. Yes, or no, or _anything_ really, but he couldn't. The words were caught in his chest, tangled in fear and nerves and the amazing way Johnny made him feel.

“Well,” Johnny said with a short, false laugh, “guess that's that.”

Johnny made to step away and Chris panicked. He still didn't manage words, but he held on to Johnny’s gorgeous shoulders so hard Johnny couldn't really go anywhere.

“Doc?” he asked, his voice soft and hopeful. 

Seeing as his brain was incapable of communicating with his mouth, Chris did the only thing he could. He squeezed harder and yanked, pulling Johnny back to him. The brilliant smile that spread over Johnny’s face said he understood. 

“Okay, Chris, okay.”

And then they were kissing. This wasn't the sweet, tender thing of before. This was all fire and passion. Johnny walked him backwards, pushing him against a wall, and Chris melted against all those muscles.

“Stay,” he finally managed. “With me. Tonight.”

Johnny groaned, “All you gotta do is ask.”

Unable to help himself, Chris said, “What have I gotten myself into?”

Johnny _beamed_ , and Chris’ heart skipped a beat. Christ, he had it bad.

“Lord Almighty, I feel my temperature rising,” Johnny belted out, and Chris covered his face with both his hands. How had he _not_ expected Johnny to sing? “Higher and higher, it's burning through to my soul…”

As Johnny continued singing Elvis’ classic, Chris playfully smacked his bicep, but completely failed to get Johnny to stop. Since Chris didn’t really want him to stop, he didn’t mind. It felt damn good to make Johnny a hunk of burning love.


	3. Epilogue

Since Mark had arrived with with broken ribs, the first meeting with the entire crew had been delayed for a few hours. Chris allowed everyone to high five their botanist, celebrate for a few minutes, but kicked everyone out again afterward. Mark needed rest, but mostly he needed a shower, and neither would be possible until his painkillers had kicked in. 

Surprisingly, Johnny had stayed clear. He’d monitored their grab and ran damage control for the ship, going so far as to do an external hull check that would have been dangerous and difficult for anyone else. He hadn’t yet made an effort to meet Mark, however. Chris had let him be, but paid particular attention to when they met the next day in the common area. He had been sitting with Johnny, watching the stars pass, when Martinez and Mark joined them.

“Dr. Watney,” Johnny stood, offering his hand with his usual, smug grin, “nice to finally meet you.”

“Johnny Storm,” Mark said slowly, taking Johnny’s hand in his two, “in the flesh. Wow.”

“Sorry you didn’t rate Iron Man.”

Mark laughed, gingerly taking a seat in the common area. His ribs were probably still killing him; Chris would have to do another exam and make sure he had the correct dose of painkillers.

“I’m flattered I rated a superhero at all.” Mark shook his head. “I can’t thank you enough, giving up a year of your life for me -”

“I’m just the back-up superhero,” Johnny interrupted, surprising Chris with some humility. “Chris and Rick did all the heavy lifting.”

“Don’t forget Vogel.” Martinez plopped onto the couch on Chris’ left. “He blew up the ship.”

Mark started to lean forward, looked like he regretted it, and leaned back into the cushions again.

“I’m telling you,” he wheezed, “he’s a mad scientist.”

“Better plan than your Iron Man idea,” Chris pointed out.

Mark shook his head. “I still say that would have worked.”

Johnny snorted.

“Stark flys with _two_ thrusters.”

Martinez instantly perked up.

“You know who else fliess with a _thrust_?”

“No,” Chris said loudly as horror filled his chest. “Rick, _no_.”

Mercifully, Martinez snickered and changed the subject. “I expect you to name your first born son after me.” Chris couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.

“Rick Watney,” Johnny mused, tapping his chin, “it’s got a terrible ring to it.”

“Oh shut up,” Martinez laughed, “at least I helped. The only person you saved this year was the Doc.”

Johnny feigned hurt, pressing a hand to his heart, but Mark beat him to any comment.

“You saved Chris?” He focused on the man in question. “What happened?”

“He got hit by some space junk doing an EVA,” Martinez explained, “but Johnny got him back with just a bit of freezer burn.”

Chris shrugged, though his heart had sped up remembering the most terrifying moment of his life.

“I had to untether to do the jump, and _wham_. Johnny was with me, got me back before I depressurized.”

Mark whistled in appreciation. “Wow, what else did I miss?”

Chris knew what was coming, and Martinez’s grin said there was no stopping him this time, “Chris’ bare ass surrounded by a fireball out in space.”

“What?” Mark asked, genuinely confused. 

Chris hunched his shoulders and pulled down his hat brim, wishing he could disappear. This was not a story he enjoyed.

“We didn’t know you could see us,” Johnny protested, his usual argument when The Incident was brought up. It was true - Chris never would have agreed to do it if he’d known they’d had an audience - but that didn’t change that _everyone_ had seen them being… intimate.

“They reached the Billion Mile High club,” Martinez motioned toward Johnny and Chris, then spread his hands as though taking in a panorama. “We all got a front row seat.”

Chris didn’t look up, not needing to see Mark’s face when his silence was enough. It stretched, making his skin flush. Johnny, the shit that he was, was unaffected, and was the first to speak again. 

“Pretty sure we’re the only members.”

Mark laughed and Chris pushed his face into his hands. “Don’t you have any shame?” 

Johnny said, “Definitely not,” while Mark said, “Doesn’t seem so.” Then they both laughed, as did Martinez. 

Groaning, Chris punched Johnny in the arm. “I can’t believe you talked me into that.”

“Aw, come on…” Johnny smiled at him with that mixture of smug and sweet that both infuriated Chris and gave him butterflies. He leaned in and slung his arm around Chris’ shoulders. “You can’t say you regret it. No one else’s seen space like you.”

From the corner of his eye, Chris saw Mark blink in surprise as he stared into Johnny’s blue eyes. It made him clear his throat and tear his gaze away.

“So, you two…?” Mark said, waggling a finger between them. Chris nodded, fighting down his blush, and Mark asked, “What happened to Johansson?” 

“Beth?” Johnny asked, going stiff against Chris’ side. “You and _Beth_?”

Surprised, Chris blinked up at his partner and slowly nodded. “You didn’t know?”

“No.” Johnny scowled, but flung an arm out toward Mark. “Thought you and him, actually.”

Mark and Martinez burst into laughter again, but Chris finally understood why Johnny had been distant. The idiot thought he was going to fly into Mark’s arms now that they had him back. 

Smiling, Chris asked, “How does a man with the ego the size of the Sun have such inadequacy issues?”

Johnny had the grace to look chagrined, but he still answered. “Dreamboat like you plays hard to get long enough and any guy will get nervous.”

Chris’ stomach twinged with guilt, so he stretched up the inch difference and kissed Johnny on the nose for everyone to see. As Johnny blinked at him in fond surprise, he said, “Listen, hothead: I don’t join the billion mile high club with just anyone.”

“You know,” Mark said, “I’m an _actual_ space pirate, and I’m jealous of that. You fucked a _superhero_ in _space_.”

Chris blushed again, but the dopey smile on Johnny’s face made everything worth it. He sat back, but leaned into Johnny’s perpetual warmth.

“We had some adventures, too, Captain Blond Beard.”

“See?” Johnny said, smug and confident once more. “You don’t regret it.”

Everyone laughed, even Chris. If Johnny and this trip to Mars had taught him anything, it was to take risks, and enjoy every moment of life. Even when your partner showed your ass to your friends.

**Author's Note:**

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